


Fireflies

by NorthernSkyline



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), F/M, Fluff, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-22 14:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernSkyline/pseuds/NorthernSkyline
Summary: "Caspar wasn't entirely sure when this had become 'their' spot, but it had, and it was now so wrapped up in his memories of Bernadetta that it was difficult to imagine a time where the two had existed independently of one another. There was a comforting permanence to it. Even if the whole world had lost its mind, they always had the overlook."On the eve of the final battle, Caspar makes a promise.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	Fireflies

**Author's Note:**

> Caspar and Bernadetta's A support is one of my favourites, so I thought I'd have some fun with that concept. I love these two idiots.
> 
> Partially inspired by Fireflies, by Dave Hause.

There comes a point in an evening that you surrender yourself to the fact that sleep isn't going to find you until you just simply pass out. Caspar had hit that point over an hour ago. He lay on his bed and sighed, resigned to his fate.

The war had dragged on for over half a bloody, difficult decade, but something in the air tonight felt different. Things had started changing as soon as the Professor had returned to them, returning to her old students almost five years to the day after she had vanished, like collective memories of their academy days had manifested themselves as a shared illusion. Byleth, however, had proven to be no illusion. She'd galvanised her old class and turned them into a formidable team. Under her command, the deadlock of the war had finally been broken, and momentum had fully shifted in their direction. Now, finally, the end was in sight.

The slight problem with the end being so close though, was that Caspar found it very difficult to think about anything else. One more push and they were done. One last battle and they could finish this for good. As much as he hated to admit it, the thought terrified him. Despite almost being within touching distance of peace, there was so much left to do. So many things left to say. He fiddled again with the small box he'd been staring at for the last twenty minutes. One last perfect moment to be found.

A sudden knock on his door made him jerk upright, stuffing the box into his pocket. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood up just as he heard a familiar door-muffled voice, one that he’d been thinking about for most of that evening.

"Caspar? Are you still awake?"

"Bernadetta?" He picked his way through the mess of armour pieces that littered the floor of his room and opened the door, careful to try and shield the view of the chaos within. Bernadetta was stood just outside, nervously shifting from foot to foot and wringing her hands. She opened and closed her mouth several times, staring at a point somewhere around Caspar's right foot.

Finally, she took a deep breath and stared up into his face. "Can we take a walk? Please? I can't sleep."

"Sure!" He beamed at her, and she gave him a weak, but encouraging, smile in response. Taking the lead, he began making his way through the monastery. They'd made the trip so many times now that words weren't really needed, although Caspar wouldn't have had a clue what to say even if they were, considering his insides were currently debating whether or not they wanted to stay as his insides.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at the overlook. Caspar wasn't entirely sure when this had become 'their' spot, but it had, and it was now so wrapped up in his memories of Bernadetta that it was difficult to imagine a time where the two had existed independently of one another. There was a comforting permanence to it. Even if the whole world had lost its mind, they always had the overlook. He took a seat on the grass a few feet from the edge, and Bernadetta settled down just to the left of him. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, both of them preferring to gaze up at the fireflies lazily drifting through the early evening sky.

"I'm scared, Caspar." Her voice was quiet, and she hadn't averted her eyes from the sky. A tear rolled down her cheek, and Caspar wanted more than anything to reach over and wipe it away, but thought better of it. "It's just…" She let the words hang between them, gesturing lamely into the air.

"I know. Don’t tell anyone, but I am too.”

“I’m being serious, Caspar!”

“Yeah. Me too. Still, don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

She giggled at him, covering her mouth with her hand, and his vision swam slightly. Hesitantly, he raised his arm and looked questioningly at her. She gave him a brief nod and scooted closer, and he rested his outstretched arm over her shoulders. Bernadetta leaned her head on his shoulder, and Caspar prayed that she couldn’t hear the violent drum solo his heart was currently playing against his ribcage.

“Can you promise me something?” Her voice was still quiet, but steady and firm.

“More promises? You sure do make a lot of demands, Bernadetta.” Bernadetta pouted at him in response, and Caspar couldn’t help grinning back at her. “Sorry, sorry! What is it?”

“Can you promise me we’ll come here again? After it’s all over?” Caspar had a feeling they both knew the real promise here. _Promise me we’ll make it out of this alive?_ His gaze met hers, and all of his bluster and bravado melted under it. The fingers of his free hand closed over the box in his pocket, and he made up his mind. Perfect moments are _earned_ , not found.

“Sure, I can do that. I’ve got one condition, though.”

“What?” She frowned up at him, and for what seemed like the hundredth time Caspar marvelled at how cute she looked when she was annoyed.

“We trade out a promise! I still promise that I’ll treat you gently, and I promise that we’ll come back here. I just think that the next time we do come back, though, it shouldn’t be just the two of us.”

-

“Stop pacing. It’s exhausting.”

“You think everything is exhausting.” Caspar snapped back. Linhardt merely shrugged in response, pulling at a loose thread on his sleeve. Glancing over, he caught Ingrid’s gaze. She scowled at him like a drill sergeant disappointed with his marching form. He kept pacing.

“You really should stop worrying, you know.” Mercedes added, smiling serenely at him. “We’ve gone over this so many times, nothing can go wrong!”

Caspar took a deep breath. _Everything_ could go wrong. How could no-one else see that? He bit back a snarky remark, and looked out into the crowd gathered in front of the four of them to try and distract himself from the thunderstorm in his chest. Almost immediately, he wished he hadn’t. Dorothea was smirking at him, clearly reveling in his discomfort. To her left, arm in arm, was Petra. In contrast, she was gazing around in wonder, eyes filled with a thousand questions and looking like she was about to explode from not asking all of them at once. Caspar quickly looked to the other side of the mass of people and caught sight of Ashe, grinning broadly despite sobbing, being comforted by Annette whilst Marianne awkwardly patted him on the shoulder, attempting to catch Linhardt’s eye for an indication of what to do. For what seemed like the millionth time, Caspar wondered what he had done to deserve each and every one of them.

He willed himself to stop moving. He took another deep breath. He was Caspar von Bergliez, for Goddess’ sake. He was a war hero who’d helped bring peace to an entire continent. He’d faced countless enemies and beaten the odds every time. All of Fódlan knew his name, so why was this such a challenge? Facing away from the crowd, he tried to centre himself by taking in the view from the overlook point. Garreg Mach stretched out before him, lit in the orange glow of the setting sun, with the first fireflies of the evening just starting their dance across the sky. So much had changed over the last five or so years, but this was the one constant. It was probably why it’d felt so right when he picked this place for today.

When the music started, he felt every muscle in his body tense up, and it seemed like it took an eternity for him to turn around. The first thing he saw was Alois, smile wider than the horizon and eyes brimming with pride, marching proudly along the back of the crowd. He reached the middle, straightened his back, and turned around to approach him through a parting in the throng of people. It was only then Caspar saw the woman linked in his left arm, and he felt all of the air leave his lungs.

Bernadetta was beautiful. Caspar had known that for a long time, ever since their days at the academy, but that simple truth smashed him in the stomach like a thousand hammers as he looked at her in that moment. He’d known her long enough as well to recognise the difference in her smiles. She had her fake smile that was her public smile (he saw it when she made her stuttered introductions, the kind which were usually followed by her locking herself in her room for the rest of the day) and she had her private smile, which was the one she gave her friends, the one he’d seen an increasing amount of as the war had raged on and they had all practically become family. This, though, was something else. This was what Caspar liked to think of as _her_ smile. Bernadetta’s smile. The rarest expression he’d ever seen, and one he would fight a hundred armies just to see again. His own cheeks almost ached from how much he was smiling himself, but he didn’t care, and it took every ounce of resistance he possessed not to simply sprint over to her at that very second.

Alois strode primly up to the makeshift stage they were standing on and bowed dramatically at Caspar and Mercedes—accidentally yanking Bernadetta down into a half bow herself—before whirling around on his heel and planting a kiss on her hand, disengaging and taking his seat in the front row next to Petra, eyes brimming with tears. Linhardt rolled his eyes. Caspar did his best to ignore him.

It was only then that the full reality of what was happening really sank in for Caspar. There was always an unspoken dynamic in his and Bernadetta’s relationship, he would charge headlong into everything and she would sigh and pick up the pieces afterwards. Just as he was attempting to summon that sense of purpose towards himself, she grabbed ahold of his hands. Almost instantly, he choked. Bernadetta chuckled, but held firm, grinning up at him. She shot Ingrid a quick look over his shoulder, and received a rare warm smile in response. Linhardt also caught Caspar’s eye, but whether he was amused or bored Caspar couldn’t tell.

Mercedes stepped forward, smiling down at the pair of them before clearing her throat and addressing the gathered crowd. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of the Goddess to join...”

Her words washed over him. For the first time that day, he was sure that Mercedes was right, and nothing could go wrong. Everything faded into the background as he grinned down into the face of the woman he loved. He knew he should have been paying attention, but right now the only thing that mattered was the warmth of Bernadetta’s hands in his, and the fireflies reflected in her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first part of this in an airport bar in Vancouver, part of it on a flight to Amsterdam and the rest of it either jetlagged out of my mind, drunk or both. Hopefully it's more coherent than I am right now.


End file.
